Midnight Social Call
by Devin Trinidad
Summary: Shinra calls Izaya in the middle of the night for no other reason than to talk with his friend. Gee, I wonder how that will turn out?


"You're up to your old antics again, aren't you?" The voice on the end crackled, giving off the vibe that something seemed to shift, as if the person on the other end was doing something important while making the social call. (He was actually forced to make this social call by the mixture of worry and blackmail.) There was a tone of displeasure and mockery, but still lighthearted enough so that it wouldn't pass as an insult. Of course, the person he was talking to had thick skin due to years of hardening himself against the brutality of humanity.

It was one of his greatest claims to fame, Izaya would say.

"Of course, Shinra! Why spend most of my time lounging around idiots who don't know the difference between threats and possible allies!" A sigh and a more petulant tone that seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was almost eerie to hear his friend suddenly change moods in lightning quick succession. "It's like they only contact me to be their babysitter!"

Unbeknownst to the underground doctor, Izaya was currently scaling a building in order to get to the top. It wasn't exactly hard going because of practice and the fact that Izaya wasn't altogether human (but that's another story). Once he was high enough, the dark haired man plopped onto the concrete stone of the building, letting his feet sway of their own enjoyment and so that his phone was purposefully jostled, eliciting a pained reaction from the speaker on the other end.

"Completely uncalled for," Shinra moaned at the sudden outburst of screeching. "Besides, you do realize that you're _the _guy! You have to be there to mediate disputes and barter information. Didn't you always have the passion for obtaining and withholding information?"

Izaya faked a yawn as he swung his legs merrily and leaned back to stare at the empty, black expanse above. How humans were able to compliment such atrocities like the stars, Izaya didn't care to know. He had enough training in sociology to know what really mattered were material items.

A grin made its way on his face, a slight crinkling in his eyes giving way to his nauseating sense of humor. Unlike the stars that glittered because of the buildup of gases, his eyes were not twinkling merrily. No, it was more like how a candle flickers in the darkness, just waiting for the right moment to have the blistering tendrils reach out and spark. Just waiting to start a wildfire out of one ember.

"This is old news, Shinra. Of course I have always had the passion—no lust!—for the thrill of doling out information one little teaspoon at a time. It's an art form, don't you think?"

Shinra sighed at his friend's—were they truly, honestly that—question. "If you mean the dance of death you're always performing between gangs? Then yes, I have to admit that it's an art—an art to see how long you'll last before you make one final misstep." He didn't mean to say it that harshly, but it was Izaya Orihara. Buttons were always getting pushed and past events were always subtly brought up. It was only natural for Shinra to be annoyed, but he still felt a tiny pang of guilt. (And there was that other question lurking about; should he even feel remotely guilty?)

He shoved that small part of him deeper inside himself. This was Izaya he was talking about; he deserved the verbal beating that no one seemed to give him.

"So cruel!" High pitched and keening, Shinra had to make sure that his ear was far away from his phone to not incur brain damage. It was almost like a high school girl had ensnared Izaya in her clutches and she had just happened to take his phone. It was a laughable image, but ten times as disturbing.

"I imagine that you wouldn't take part in my funeral, huh?" Izaya continued. The lively tone that Izaya said that almost caused Shinra to grit his teeth in near agony, no one should be that cheery on this dark, morbid subject. Then again, he was the one who lived with a mythological creature closely related to death, so should he really be talking? It was probably the late night stress getting to him, Shinra reasoned. He could talk about what he wanted, its not like anything being said would be used against him in the future…oh wait!

"Your funeral? You're not in the clutches of one of the gangs are you? Even I don't have that much money to pay the ransom. My job pays, but it doesn't pay well."

"Ah, Shinra! What's the probability that a gang would have the heart to capture me? I'm their best bet against failure…and success!"

"I suppose you're right," Shinra conceded sarcastically. "But how can you be sure that they aren't secretly planning to assassinate you? I just might be attending your funeral any day now with you haranguing about how superior you are to humanity." Wisely, Shinra failed to mention that he might join the steadily amassing bandwagon of hooligans who were trying to kill the pest that encroached Ikebukuro and Shinjuku.

"Aw! You do care! Little Shinra, it appears that your wee crush on the Irish dame has finally receded and brought forth a new budding romance!" A small, pretend choke of pure happiness—or should we say, cynicism—coated the brunette's words. Everyone who knew the relationship between the underground doctor and his 'Celty' knew that Shinra would go to Hell and beyond to stay with his beloved. "Could it be that our Shinra has crushed on the one and only informant of Shinjuku?"

A tight laugh left Shinra's chapped lips as he contemplated numerous ways to disembowel Izaya's innards. He could, of course, go for the textbook dissections, but that would be too sterile. What if he were to follow horror films and cut and slashed wherever he pleased? Surely that would be a beneficial towards everyone and the broker.

"The day I go after anyone—male or female—other than my precious Celty, is when I commit suicide by dissecting myself!"

"Ah, and there it is. You see, Shinra, that's the difference between you and me. Will you dare venture to ask the question as to what I am referring?" There was a sly smile on Izaya's face as he asked that. It was the smile that was akin to a cat finally baiting the mouse from out of hiding. It would be only nanoseconds before Shinra would run after it, asking reluctantly about this 'difference' between the two.

_Hypothesis: If I were to bait my precious doctor, then he would obviously go running after it under ten seconds._

"Fine. What are you talking about?"

_Result: I was correct. Of course._

Humans were all so alike! So dull and boring, that's why Izaya loved them.

"Dear Shinra, don't you realize that I would go to _your_ funeral? That's what friends do when they depart for the afterlife. Aren't we friends?"

Shinra took a moment to let that question sink in before replying. There were many variables that were worth the wait before the question could be answered. For one thing, Shinra wasn't too sure that Izaya was joking or not. If he was joking, he could just easily let some witty sarcasm answer that question and not feel guilty. However, and this seemed to be the reality, Izaya seemed serious. His humor and tone were a little off, like it was contaminated with sobriety. It was kind of like hearing a drunk finally drink water for a change and finally seeing that there was something more to him other than the sweet rewards of liquor. It was a revelation that Shinra kept to himself—it was probably all an elaborate trap so that Izaya could get ahold of some more information on Celty or something.

And yet…

"I suppose we are somewhat friends," the reluctant reply came. His voice was soft and hesitant, like if he were to speak more loudly and with more force, he would have broken glass. There was edginess to his tone, like he was expecting to get verbally abused because of his not-really-there response. "…And I suppose that I could spend some of my time writing a eulogy if you were to die."

Izaya hummed, his legs were swinging madly through the air as if were a ten year old at the swings again, and he smiled. If one were to look at him differently, not as a demon of the night, but as a lonely man, one would have seen that there was a tinge of worry etched into his features. His dark eyes were swallowed by darkness and his dominant hand continually flexed with his knife in his grip. The phone that he held in his hand was held loosely in his hand, as if were only seconds away from letting it free-fall into the unforgiving streets of Ikebukuro.

"So then…what would you write? What would you feel when you see me in the casket with my eyes never opening…" In some ways, Izaya seems desperate, out of control. He almost looked like he was a madman just waiting to leap off the roof, his jacket probably billowing in the wind. He's the scientist who's getting ready the experiment to see how far Shinra would go for this 'friendship' of theirs. On the other hand, he instinctively knows what Shinra has to say, what he will say.

_It won't be pretty, and it certainly won't be polite. _

Shinra was always blunt when it came to Izaya. There would be no reason for him to act sappy, the way _ordinary_ humans would treat this conversation. Because that's just it, Izaya realizes. He's ordinary and Shinra is a blazing angel of life always chasing after the maiden of death. And it's exhausting to watch those two interact, always having each other's back and falling in love. (Because of course Shinra had to go and fall in love with a Valkyrie that he happened to dissect when he was four! Geeze, and everyone thought that Izaya was twisted.)

It's sickening and the deathly fumes of companionship intoxicate Izaya.

He doesn't mind it though. Every man must have their own addiction to subscribe to.

It's the inane feeling of jealousy that haunts Izaya that causes him to pursue humanity in all their filthy glory.

What Izaya doesn't realize—he does, actually, he just refuses to see it—was that feeling jealously and spite every hour of his waking life was one of the core roots of the grime that plague the human race. Would that make him less than human for lording himself over others when he, himself, was worse? To be honest, Izaya doesn't want the answer now; he'll save it for the Valkyries.

And since Celty was most definitely a Valkyrie and she spent most of her time with Shinra, then obviously some of her traits must have been rubbed off on him, right? (At least that's what Izaya reasons when he finds himself listening intently to what Shinra has to say.)

"Well, I suppose that I should start by saying that you could be literally the most despicable human being that I have ever met. You were the fabled antichrist that was prophesized within the Bible, you were the one who instigated so many feuds and losses, and you were always the one smiling after a catastrophe. You were the one who knew everything about everyone. You were a spider that trapped all information in one web, always sucking your pawns dry before heading off to the next piece to devour."

It was all said in a nice, even tone. It was a tone that one would associate with a grandfather telling a story of his childhood towards his posterity. Izaya would have admired it—and he kind of did—but he couldn't brush off how harsh and unrelenting his friend could be.

"Intensely disturbing that you should think of your dear friend that way," Izaya mused.

Shinra noted that there was a sound of something…not there.

"And yet…you're also a moth, you know? You're drawn towards the flame of life…always lusting for answers, for the reasoning behind human relationships. You want to take part in everyday activities, but the sad thing is, you don't know how. Maybe it's because you swore against the trivialities of humanity or maybe you were simply never taught how to be friendly. And I guess that's what is going to scare me if I were to witness the great Izaya Orihara face up in a coffin…that all I ever see is the face of a lonely man who never realized…"

It's only a few seconds before Izaya realizes that Shinra has gone silent. It's only understandable that he doesn't do anything for a bit because there's something dripping down his face. With fingers that were shaking slightly, he reluctantly draws his fingers onto his face. He winces when he realizes that his fingers were slick with the liquid of his tears. He wants to tell himself that it's disgusting and so utterly human, but he can't bring himself to say anything.

For once, Izaya doesn't say anything and maybe he shouldn't say anything.

After an interminable silence, Shinra just shook his head before flipping his cellphone shut.

Enough had been said and justified.

And so, Izaya just stared at the sky in silent wonder and repose. There were many questions that litter his mind, many of which existed because Shinra caused him to think. Izaya feels so human right now, he just can't bring himself to curse Shinra's name.

It's so different and so alien; Izaya lets himself hang out on the building's ledge a moment too late before his victim of the night jumps off by herself.

The whoosh of her body falling pierces the night air, her silent screams perfectly mirrored on her face.


End file.
